


In Which Hannibal Chau Makes It Rain

by aunt_zelda



Series: In Which Hermann is dark, Newton is poly, and Hannibal Chau is pretty much the same [2]
Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Blindfolds, Bondage and Discipline, Community: pacificrimkink, Dirty Talk, Exhibitionism, Gags, M/M, Money, Multi, Piercings, Polyamory, Possessive Behavior, Spanking, Temperature Play, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-27
Updated: 2013-09-27
Packaged: 2017-12-27 17:47:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/981824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aunt_zelda/pseuds/aunt_zelda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Newt decides to parade around in his kaiju-leather pants, distracting Hannibal during meetings. Hannibal decides to teach him a lesson, have some fun, and drag Hermann into the bedroom for good measure. </p><p>A smutty spinoff of "In Which Hannibal Chau Conducts Very Unusual Job Interviews, Newton Gieszler Has Two Boyfriends, and Hermann Gottlieb Might Have Killed A Man."</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Which Hannibal Chau Makes It Rain

**Author's Note:**

> So, after far too long, I have finished the smutty tangent that takes place in the same universe as the "Dark!Hermann/Flexible!Newt/Same!Hannibal" fic I wrote a while back. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy. Temperature play was suggested in the comments for the previous fic. This isn't exactly a sequel per-se, hence I made it a series. These take place in the same universe, where Hannibal hired Hermann and Newt to work for him and they never ended up at the PPDC. It's suggested that you read that fic first, but not necessary I think. 
> 
> I imagine the ropes to look something like this, but longer and moreso:   
> http://img1.etsystatic.com/007/0/6554149/il_fullxfull.398720073_l99a.jpg
> 
> If I missed any triggers or warnings, please let me know and I'll edit the tags accordingly. 
> 
> Kudos make me smile; comments make me squee!

Newt is taunting him. Actually taunting him.

And Hannibal … has shit to do today. Important shit. Clients and dealers and meetings. Which, admittedly, are relaxed enough to allow Newt to wander through the room, lounge against the wall or perch on a desk in the corner, but that just means distractions for everyone in the room.

Hannibal, for a start. But also some of the clients. Watching an attractive young man strut around in very tight Kaiju-leather pants will do that to even the mildly bi-curious. 

Hannibal tries to remain calm. They can look, but not touch. It’s gotten around that Hannibal is very protective of his boys, and that Hermann packs a nasty punch. There’s a Brazilian boss with a mangled hand who doesn’t visit anymore, after making the mistake of trying to pull Hermann onto his lap during a dinner. 

But they’re leering. At Newt. And Newt is _his_ , goddamnit. 

Ok, maybe Hannibal is a bit possessive. Maybe he has some control issues. Maybe ending the meeting early and grabbing Newt and flinging him over his shoulder is the wrong thing to do. 

But it’s what he _wants_ to do. So he does it. 

Hannibal ends the meeting, and before the room is even clear, grabs Newt’s squirming, leather-clad ass, picks him up, and carries him off. 

“You know, if someone had asked me five years ago where I saw myself in a few years time, I would not have said ‘upside down over the shoulder of my gangster boyfriend.’”

“Quit callin’ me that,” Hannibal growls, but he’s smiling. “I’m not your boyfriend.”

“Well, what am I supposed to call you? My boss? Yeah, can’t wait to explain _that_ to my mother.”

“You need to shut your yap, that’s what you need to do.” Hannibal says, finally reaching his bedroom. (Newt has a bed somewhere near the labs, with clothes and books piled everywhere, and Hermann has his own, pristine room where neither of them has ever set foot.)

“And what are you going to do about that?” Newt asks, giggling as Hannibal tosses him into the center of the bed. 

“I’m going to make it rain.” Hannibal smirks. He’s been planning this one for a while. 

“I am not poledancing in these pants.” Newt says, completely deadpan.

“You’re not keeping the pants on for long, kid.” Hannibal announces, pulling out one of the many chests from under the bed. 

Newt is practically bouncing up and down with glee. He loves Hannibal’s toys, tries them out with an enthusiasm that should be illegal. 

“You’ve been driving me crazy all afternoon, pacing around, leaving, coming back … can’t stay still for ten goddamn minutes, can you?” Hannibal pulls out something special. He had them custom made a while back and he’s been saving them for a day like today: jeweled ropes, twists of silk strands tangled together with jewels studded every so often, and especially at the ends with baubles that cost more than most sports cars. “But anytime I want, I can catch you, because you’re mine. I can keep you as long as I like, and you’re not going anywhere. Because you’re _mine_.” 

Newt is turning red and fidgeting – he likes it when Hannibal gets like this, but sometimes the remnants of his previous life, the life before Hannibal and Hermann – come filtering back. Sometime he gets nervous and skittish when Hannibal’s possessive streak shows, and it takes a lot of coaxing to bring Newt back. 

“Lose the shirt.”

“Or what?” Newt grins.

“You’re my prisoner, you figure it out,” Hannibal adds a bit of a purr to his tone and watches as Newt practically melts into a puddle then and there. 

“Well, I’d better do as you say then … captain.” Newt pulls off his shirt, baring his tattoos in all their glory. The work is almost complete now, just a few more coloring sessions over his ribs and he’ll be covered. 

Hannibal pulls him up along the bed, Newt flailing a little dramatically for the show of it. Newt dutifully puts his wrists up to the headboard and Hannibal ties him, tight enough to prevent escape but not so tight that they’ll have to worry about circulation. Newt’s hands are too important to risk like that, even though there are days when Hannibal would like to bind Newt up so tight he couldn’t even wriggle.

“Well, you’ve got me,” Newt squirms, an obnoxious grin on his face. “What are you gonna do with me?”

“The suspense is just killing you, isn’t it?” Hannibal laughs, stroking Newt through the Kaiju-leather and making him whimper. 

“Yesssssss …” Newt groans. “Come on, please, I’ve been bad, naughty, whatever you want, just fuck me already!”

Hannibal goes to his wallsafe, one of several he has scattered around the complex. This has been something he’s been dreaming up for a while. It’s no secret that he loves gold, loves to flash his wealth around for all to see, and loves to decorate his boys with his riches. He’s never taken it quite this far, though.

Hannibal toys with the idea of some cheesy lines about “pirate booty” and decides against it. Newt will probably say that anyways, and he’d rather Newt says it than him, so he can claim he’d never utter such a stupid line. 

So, wordlessly, he upends the contents of a large velvet bag onto the bed. Gold coins rain down onto the red silk sheets and over Newt’s inked skin. 

Newt blinks, staring.

Then he beams. 

“ _Hell_ yes!” Newt licks his lips. “Come on, pile it on me! Make this a freaking treasure chest!”

Hannibal does, pouring out more bags of coins. Most are gold, but he gets enough variety from old coins and currency from around the world to make the tableau various metallic shades. Gold is the primary color, though, glinting everywhere. 

“Gorgeous,” Hannibal can’t help but lean down and sink his teeth into the crook of Newt’s neck. “Mine … all mine …”

Newt, of course, takes this opportunity to bring out the cheesy line that’s been hanging in the air ever since Hannibal upended the first bag. 

“So, if I’m your pirate booty, does that mean –”

Hannibal, expecting this, pulls a ball gag from his pocket and shoves it into Newt’s mouth. 

Newt trembles with fury and arousal as Hannibal arranges some necklaces and jewels over him, making the coins shine even more. 

“I should get someone to paint this,” he murmurs, taking out his phone. “Ah well, new background, here we come …”

The flash makes the jewels shimmer and Newt twitch slightly. Hannibal can’t hold himself back any longer. 

He puts his phone on the dresser and advances on the bed. Wordlessly, he pulls Newt’s pants down, the Kaiju-leather slippery under his fingers. He’s done this before though, so they come off rather quickly. 

Newt has, once again, elected not to wear underwear, keeping nothing between himself and the Kaiju-leather. The fucking pervert. 

Hannibal licks his lips. “What have I told you about not wearing underwear?”

Newt makes mumbled sounds from behind the gag and Hannibal takes it off for now.

“You said it makes me look like a slut who’s asking for it, and I should always wear underwear.” Newt says, no hesitation.

“So why,” Hannibal asks, idly trailing a hand up along Newt’s thigh, “aren’t you wearing any today?”

Newt smirks wickedly and doesn’t answer. 

Hannibal turns him over – Newt’s wrists twist, stretching the ropes a bit, but they hold – and slaps Newt’s ass.

Newt moans and arches up slightly.

“I asked you,” Hannibal slaps Newt again, “a question,” and again, “slut.”

Newt is squirming and moaning and it’s not theatrics anymore, it’s all real. He’s begging to be fucked, verbally, physically, probably psychically too if Hannibal could read minds. 

Which is, of course, why Hannibal has to take one of his favorite rings from his box under the bed, and slip it over Newt’s dripping cock.

“Noooooooo …” Newt slumps on his side, defeated, too aroused to be defiant. 

Hannibal calmly puts the gag back in place, and Newt opens his mouth for it in a resigned manner. 

“Wait here.”

Newt moans, shaking his head and squirming against his bonds. 

“You ought to learn some patience, boy,” Hannibal growls. “I could go to another meeting and just leave you here. For _hours._ ”

Newt whimpers and looks suitably apologetic.

Hannibal locks the door and heads for the lab. 

~*~

“Afternoon, doc,” Hannibal pecks Hermann on the cheek, because he knows it annoys the man, and grins. “Busy?”

“Actually, I was –”

“It can wait. Come with me.”

Hermann splutters but allows himself to be led away from his desk, which means it wasn’t all that important. If it were, Hermann would be slapping Hannibal across the legs with his cane, and that would be the end of it.

“And what has Newton done this time?” Hermann asks as they round a corner.

“What makes you think he’s done anything?” Hannibal can’t even keep a straight face, just thinking of the state he left Newt in. 

“You have that look about you … horny and purposeful. So, there is a place for me in these proceedings?”

“Of course. You’re one of my boys.” Hannibal squeezes Hermann’s shoulder and Hermann’s eyes water. 

“Quite.” Hermann clears this throat. “And the festivities will be …?”

“See for yourself, doc.” Hannibal opens the door to his bedroom.

Hermann’s breath catches as he takes in the scene. 

It’s quite the sight: Newt, naked, sprawled out on the bed, tied up and covered in coins and jewels. The ballgag in his mouth draws the eye, its vibrant red a point of focus. 

“Oh my,” Hermann coughs, slowly limping inside, not quite towards the bed, almost circling it. “You’ve been planning this, haven’t you, sir?”

“You don’t have to call me that, doc, I keep tellin’ you that.” Hannibal smirks, watching Hermann just drink in the sight of Newt on the bed.

“You’ve outdone yourself.” Hermann leans his cane against the bedside table and meets Hannibal’s eyes. “May I …?”

“Be my guest,” Hannibal gestures down at Newt, who is whining around the gag now at being ignored like some object. He hates being ignored more than anything, he’s an attention whore in every sense of the word. Luckily, Hannibal and Hermann are both willing to indulge him. 

Hermann perches on the edge of the bed, looking down over Newt’s tattooed skin, his dripping cock, his squirming feet. 

“Aren’t you a lovely prize,” Hermann murmurs, running a finger along the underside of Newt’s cock, twisting the ring ever so slightly. “A perfect addition to his hoard. Do you know any tricks, _liebling_?”

Newt nods and squirms, as if to demonstrate. 

“Good. You’re going to learn a lot more, tonight,” Hermann shucks his jacket, which Hannibal takes and folds over the back of a chair. “It takes a special sort to become a permanent fixture here. If you don’t measure up, we’ll throw you out to the crew. Let them use you however much they please.”

Newt moans, shaking his head. He wants to be theirs, wants to be good, wants to prove himself. 

Hannibal bites the inside of his cheek to hold back a wince. Newt enjoys Hermann’s threats while they’re in bed, but Hannibal isn’t so sure sometimes that they’re idle threats. 

Hermann begins to unbutton his shirt, while Newt watches expectantly. Hannibal leans against the wall, just watching for now, stroking himself. 

Hermann wears the gold and jeweled rings Hannibal gives him, and the gold bracelets set with precious stones. Most people see those adornments and think that’s the extent of his jewelry. Most people never see Hermann without his shirt off. Even Hannibal and Newt seldom get that privilege. 

But when they do … they get to see Hermann’s nipple piercings. They get to see the jeweled studs, Kaiju-blue more often than not, glittering against his pale skin. Newt teases him, says he should get implants: studs along his collarbone or constellations curling along his hips. Hermann usually smacks him when he suggests that, and Newt laughs it off. 

There’s something oddly enticing about the sight of Hermann revealing himself to them, removing the plain black clothes and simple jackets, the stuffy professor demeanor being replaced by something … dangerous and strange. 

Hannibal gets his next idea ready while Hermann plays with Newt, stroking his tormented cock and toying with his balls.

“What do you have in mind, boss?” Hermann asks, glancing over his shoulder, two fingers already inside Newt.

“Blindfold him. Take the gag off.” Hannibal sets a tray down on the bedside table. 

Hermann blindfolds Newt first, with a length of embroidered silk, and then removes the gag. 

Newt relinquishes it with an obscene wet pop. “… ohgodfuckmepleasedon’tstop …” Newt’s words are tumbling over each other. 

“All in good time,” Hannibal promises. “For now, let’s play a game.”

Hermann examines the tray. It holds two small bowls of water, one swimming with ice cubes, the other steaming with heat. Hermann’s eyes widen, and then he smiles, taking a coin from the bed and dipping it into the ice water. 

Hannibal slips a coin into the steaming bowl, and removes it with a pair of tongs. “Guess which one of us it is.”

Newt writhes. “Come on, that’s easy, I …” he trails off into a hiss of pain as Hermann presses a coin onto his chest. “Hannibal, that’s not fa–”

“Not me, boy, that was all Hermann.” Hannibal chuckles. “Gonna have to do better than that, or we won’t take that ring off.”

“Oh _please_ , this is torture, this is evil, I hate you both so m – mmmmmmm …” Newt trails off into a moan as Hannibal twirls a coin around his nipple. Hot rivulets of water drip down Newt’s chest, making the Kaiju on his skin cry. 

“Evil, are we?” Hermann purrs, completely naked now, pressing his erection against Newt’s thigh. “You think you know what ‘evil’ is?”

“You’ve got no idea,” Hannibal dips two coins into the hot water and then presses them on either side of Newt’s neck. 

They make sure to demonstrate, all night. By the time they’re through, the ring has rolled off into some corner of the room, forgotten. Newt is completely wrecked, sweaty and limp and smiling, a glazed expression on his face. Hermann is wearing his shirt and pants again, to signify that he’s done with the festivities for now. 

Hannibal cleans up some of the toys, showers, and returns to bed to find them both asleep. Newt – completely naked – is curled up against Hermann, clinging to him like an oversized, evil German teddy bear. Hannibal climbs in on Newt’s other side, pressing a kiss over one of the marks he left on Newt’s neck earlier. 

Newt snuffles in his sleep and rolls, clinging to Hannibal now too.

Hannibal holds back a laugh, and drifts off to sleep. 

In the morning, he wakes up with gold coins over his eyelids. He chases Newt down the hallway for that, catching him near the lab and hauling him back for morning sex. Hermann makes breakfast and watches, smirking to himself before disappearing back to his calculations. 

Hannibal has never been happier in his life. He hasn’t gotten around to voicing that to his boys, but he’s pretty sure that they know.


End file.
